The Club
by M and M Works
Summary: The inspiration for this one-parter came after watching S4 episode 1 and seeing what Pacey and Joey used as a bookmark. The fic is set near the beginning of S5, with the epilogue set after the infamous kitchen scene in the series finale.


~*~ The Club ~*~  
**by M&M Works**

_  
__A/N: The inspiration for this one-parter came after watching S4 episode 1 and seeing what Pacey and Joey used as a bookmark. The fic is set near the beginning of S5, with the epilogue set after the infamous kitchen scene in the series finale. Song quotes are in blue; the song is __Sarah McLachlan's "I Will Remember You"__ (Note: we've changed the order of the lyrics somewhat). Usual disclaimer applies: we do not own the Dawson's Creek characters, song lyrics, or images. Just borrowing them for a moment...  
_

**Club (klub) **_**n: **_**a group of people associated for a common purpose**

_**  
**_  
There are many different types of clubs: book clubs, food clubs, dance clubs, sailing clubs… the list is endless.

A club can be public, or it can be private - that distinction is up to its members. Those members also get to decide how many people can belong to said club and what the house rules are.

This particular club was private; members, two. It had been established for only a few weeks, although strictly speaking the members had been bonded through one type of club or another since their childhood.

The club rules were known by the members and them alone – at least _some _of the rules were; they weren't always crystal clear. You see, the two members had never actually voiced the rules aloud to each other.

No, that would be too easy - and these two never did know how to make things easy.

Instead they made the rules up as they went, each assuming the other member knew what the rules were and would play along, never deviating.

And this arrangement _had_ been working fine.

~*~

"…forty-eight… forty-nine… fifty… fifty-one." Jack slapped the last of the plastic-coated playing cards he'd been holding in his hands onto the small table in front of him, spreading them out in a fan.

He pursed his lips. "Huh, that's odd," he mumbled under his breath.

"What's odd?" Jen, her back to him, knelt on the seat opposite. She glanced away from where she was watching Pacey cook their burgers on the boat's small grill and looked over her shoulder. "Jack?"

Jack lifted his eyes from the cards to her face. "The deck is missing one card."

"So? What's odd about that?" She licked her fingers one by one, savoring the remnants from the earlier taste-testing session in which Pacey had enlisted her help. "Maybe one got lost."

"Maybe." Jack nodded in agreement, then raised his voice when the noise of the fat dripping from the burger patties into the hot pan filled the air. "But this is the third pack of cards I've counted." He paused for effect. "They are _all_ missing one card."

"Huh." Jen twisted back round to look at the chef hard at work. "Pacey?"

She had to call his name two more times, and loudly at that, to be heard over the noise from his cooking and tuneless humming.

A dishtowel thrown haphazardly over one shoulder, Pacey looked up from the grill and wiped his brow clean from the steam of the pan. "Lindley, you bellowed?"

He studied the look on her face and raised his brows, silently asking her to come out with it.

"You invite the three of us here for an impromptu party. You lure us in with the promise of good home-cooked food and post-meal entertainment in the form of poker."

Pacey remained quiet waiting for the catch line.

She tipped her chin at the grill. "Dinner's late, the radio's busted and…," she pointed over her shoulder to where Jack sat, "…the deck isn't complete, meaning we can't play poker." She pouted. "This party sucks big time."

Pacey stood up tall and twisted the knob on the grill to turn the flame off. "Dinner is not late. I don't recall saying a specific time we'd eat."

At Jen's unsatisfied look, he canted his head in the direction of the head. "Okay, if you wanna blame anyone for why it's…," he cast a glance at the clock above the cooker, "…nine o'clock and we haven't eaten, blame Potter and her bladder issues. We'll eat as soon as she comes out. Again."

He padded over to one of the cabinets and took out four plates. "The radio may be busted but I'm singing, aren't I?"

"I wouldn't call what you were doing _singing_."

The corners of his eyes creased as he grinned. "I'll have you know you're very lucky to have DJ Pacey J Witter in da house." He grabbed some cutlery from the top drawer and shrugged one shoulder. "As for the cards, try another deck. I should have a couple of packs in the cupboard."

"You do," Jack confirmed and held up three card boxes for him to see. "But they're all missing a card, man."

Before Pacey could offer an explanation, Joey emerged from the head. "Mmm… dinner smells wonderful, Pacey." She looked over at Jack. "What's with the cards? Going to perform a magic trick?"

Jack scratched his nose and chuckled, "No. I was counting them out for later. But looks like that's off the table now. None of the packs are complete."

Without thinking, Joey smiled softly and headed over to the kitchen area. "Ah, well. I think I can help with that."

She breezed past Pacey, reaching behind him as she snagged a handful of cookbooks from the corner shelf. After flicking through the pages in the second book, she found what she was looking for.

"Ta da!" she beamed triumphantly and held up a playing card. "Here's one. And I bet the others are around here somewhere."

Her eyes scanned the counter and, seeing the latest copy of _Sailing_ set to one side, she snatched it up and repeated the process of thumbing through the pages.

As she reached the back of the magazine, a playing card slipped out and fell onto the counter top. She picked it up along with the other card and held them both up. "Here you go."

No one said anything.

Looking in turn at Jack's and then Jen's bemused faces, she frowned in confusion. "What? This is what you were looking for, isn't it? These two cards should be enough. Now we can play poker."

Jen narrowed her eyes. "How did you know that, Joey?"

Still puzzled by their reaction, Joey unknowingly slipped further into the danger zone. "Know what?"

"Where to find the cards."

Joey's heart suddenly skipped a beat and her throat went dry. Only then did she notice Pacey's still form.

He hadn't said a word; his silence spoke volumes.

She was breaking a rule.

She chanced a surreptitious glance at him but he was doing a fine job of busying himself enumerating the tiles of the kitchen counter.

"Hey, that's even odder," Jack chipped in.

"What?" Jen twisted round once more to look at him.

He pointed to the two cards Joey still held up in her hand. "They're both the same card. The eight of clubs. What's up with that?"

Joey instantly dropped the cards as if they burnt, letting them float like snowflakes to counter top.

Knowing Jen was still waiting for an answer, she weakly offered, "Err… well… just a lucky guess, I suppose."

Pacey, his tile counting seemingly complete, raised his eyes to Joey's and broke his silence. "Oh, you can tell them, Jo," he said slowly.

Joey's eyes went wide for the briefest moment, but only long enough for Pacey to notice. Smiling sweetly at him, she cleared her throat and tried out her brightest voice. "I can?"

"Sure you can." He crossed his arms against his chest. Lifting one shoulder nonchalantly, he matched her tone and look. "It's just Jen and Jack."

"Yeah," Jen agreed. Still kneeling on the couch facing Pacey - and now Joey, too - she placed her elbows on the kitchen counter, linked her hands, and propped her chin on top. "It's just _us_, Joey."

Jen smiled to herself as she looked from Pacey to Joey locked in their stand-off and waited for one of them to respond and the banter game, which inevitably would, to begin.

She'd missed this. Things had been so tense lately. Dawson was spending all his time helping his mom after the funeral (so much so that he couldn't come tonight), Jack was caught up with his frat brothers and partying hard, and everyone was generally busy living their own lives in this brand new environment. It had been a while since they'd all regrouped.

And she guessed that was partly why Pacey had organized tonight – he missed this, too.

However, with the way Pacey had been so intent on showing everyone that he was Mr. Happy - moving forward with his life, never looking back – Jen wasn't sure if it was all one big smoke screen to hide the painful truth. He didn't just miss the Capeside gang, he missed one person in particular.

Yep. Denial. Yet another type of club. And it loved company.

Speaking of which, Jen watched as Joey attempted to chuckle although her eyes were far from amused as they remained locked with Pacey's.

Joey tucked her hair behind her ears then calmly held her straightened arms by her sides, tightly gripping the edges of her sleeves that she'd pulled down over her hands. "Actually, why don't you tell them, Pacey?"

"Now, now, Potter." Shifting his hands to behind him, he leaned casually against the counter and crossed one leg over the other at his ankle. "No need to be shy."

"I'm not." Joey countered in an airy voice, fixing the corners of her mouth even higher. "It's okay. You go ahead, Pacey." She waved her arm to the side, giving him the floor to speak. "Everyone knows you're a much better storyteller."

"Really? 'Cause I always thought you loved to tal-"

"_Pacey._" Joey hissed through her teeth, eyes flashing the words 'Bite me'_._

She knew he was enjoying this, his right as a fellow club member to prolong the torture of the other member for breaking a house rule.

Make that breaking the golden rule.

But hadn't he broken that rule, too?  
**  
**She may have known where to find the cards but he was the one still using them as bookmarks.

Intense brown eyes captured blue, wordlessly voicing this question.

After a long moment, Pacey dropped his shoulders. "Yeah. Okay, fine," he relented with a whisper and broke his stare with Joey. Pushing out a slow breath he swiveled his head and looked over at the other duo in the room. "You see Joey here is finally willing to acknowledge she needs help." He pursed his lips dramatically. "She's made the first step, she's reached out. To me." He opted for a serious tone. "We should all support her in her time of need."

Joey kept her face blank, her brain furiously working as she tried to figure out where he was going with this. Her eyes flicked over to Jen and Jack to gauge their reaction before being pulled back to Pacey's voice.

"I think I know what it was that made her reach breaking point." He turned back to look at Joey, using his hands to accentuate his speech. "It was the charcoaled piece of toast that finally did it, wasn't it, Potter? You couldn't take the looks from all the people in your dorm, the ones who were forced out of their rooms when the fire alarm went off. In the middle of the night. In the rain no less. Let's just say they were not amused."

From the angle of his head only Joey could see his eyes right then. For a split second they twinkled, reminding her of a time - which seemed like a lifetime ago now - when she'd last seen him smile like that at her.

A time when they were members of another club, one where they were on the same team and thinking for two.

Then the spark was gone as if she'd only imagined it there, his eyes changing back to the mask he was currently sporting these days.

The one that said he belonged to a _very_ different type of club.

He switched his attention back to Jen and Jack. "So she came to the expert. Joey asked to borrow some cookbooks. End of."

Jen processed this information for a short time. "Lovely as that story is, Pacey, it doesn't explain what the cards were doing in the books and how Joey knew they'd be there," she pressed.

Pacey scratched the corner of his right ear. "I had some buddies from Civilization over for a game the other night. The cards were lying out and I must have grabbed them as bookmarks when Joey came around to borrow the books." He lifted his eyes to Joey's and searched her face. "Right, Jo?"

Joey morphed her face into a smile and bobbed her head. "Uh-huh. Right."

Pacey nodded his head once, too, before dragging his eyes away and addressing Jen and Jack. "There. Mystery solved." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Now, who's hungry?"

~*~

Joey inhaled deeply before letting out a self-deprecating curse, '_Stupid, stupid, stupid'._ Her hands twisted against themselves, in constant motion, over and over. After splitting up from Jen and Jack once they'd left Pacey's temporary floating abode and insisting she was fine to walk home on her own, she took her time as she strolled back to her dorm.

Although her gaze was fixed across the campus lawn, where the lights from the dorm windows made shadow puppets across the grass, her focus was internal.

_I will remember you_

_  
_  
She'd been doing so well up till now. So strong, so focused. Why'd she have to go and slip up now, in front of Jen and Jack? Okay, Jack wasn't so bad. But Jen? The All-Seeing-Eye? She'd be sure to file this night in her memory bank and use her reverse psychology trick to get answers.

Answers Joey couldn't face.

She stopped mid-step with a laugh. This was all so silly. She was making a mountain out of a molehill, right? Worrying over nothing. Nothing had _actually_ happened. So she knew where to find some dumb cards, so what? Pacey's quick-thinking fabrication had been believable enough, hadn't it? No one could deny she was a goddamn awful cook and Pacey, working in a restaurant, would be the perfect candidate to give her some advice, wouldn't he?

Except for the fact that one of the club rules meant that the members were never alone together and only approached each other in public.

But Jen didn't know that. So everything was all right.  
_  
_

_Will you remember me?_

And really, it wasn't her fault now, was it? It was an innocent mistake. Pacey could have intervened at any time to stop her before she reached those books – and what the hell was he still using cards as bookmarks for anyway? If fingers were going to be pointed in any direction, they should be fixed firmly in his._  
_  
Needing something to occupy her hands, she reached down and scooped up a small pebble by the side of the path, smoothing the cool surface with her thumb. She frowned to herself.

No, she couldn't let Pacey take the full blame. It takes two to tango, after all.

She was simply going to have to remember to stick more firmly to the rules.

And just what were these rules? Glad you asked. Her current list was short; there were only three. She liked to call them the Bostonian Rules.

**Rule Number One: No Touching**

**  
**Ah, that rule was the hardest, but very necessary. It was established the night she went to see him, using the excuse of Gram's weekly dinner invitation.

No one knew this but at the graduation party she happened to have been looking out the window at the very moment Pacey and Andie saw each other for the first time. She'd seen the way his face lit up and the way he rushed over to her when she called out his name, enveloped her in an enormous hug, and lifted her from the ground.

God, she'd been so jealous; but hopeful, too.

She didn't think it had been possible for those two emotions to run through her veins at the same time, but they had. Watching him with Andie, although she'd wished more than anything that she was the person in his arms right then, she'd been hopeful that one day she and Pacey would be able to interact that way.

So, when instead of a hug she'd gotten a helping hand onto the boat - a hand where contact was polite, formal, and quickly removed - she knew that for her touching wasn't allowed. Why? Because her greedy body wanted more. It was all or nothing. Judging from his body language, you'd think she was one of his sisters _not_ someone he'd known biblically. So, she was going cold turkey. Otherwise, it hurt too much.

Whenever she was around him she tried her best to keep unavoidable contact brief; to ensure she didn't forget, she either kept her arms safely folded across her chest or her sleeves pulled down tight in her palm to hide her trembling fingers - else they betray her and follow their instinct to reach out and seek his touch.

So what if she'd looked like an idiot with the amount of times she used the bathroom tonight? She'd needed the distraction to regroup and splash cold water over her heated face. Rather she look the fool than be one by touching Pacey when, in her mind, he had made it quite obvious that he still couldn't stand her touch.

She didn't know what she'd do if she ever saw him flinch again as a result of her. No, she didn't want to go there. She couldn't bear the weight of any more of his regrets on her shoulders.

**Rule Number Two: Don't Approach Him**

Another rule from which she'd taken his lead. He'd made it perfectly clear that he wanted distance, repeatedly so. Pre-Bostonian Rules, she'd made the mistake of ignoring this plea – let's count the ways, shall we? One: after prom, she'd been the one to go see him with the invitation to the Worthington dinner. Two: she found him on the docks the next morning and held his hand. Three: she approached him after he'd walked out of his last exam. Four: the one to go find him when he'd been in Boston for weeks but hadn't wanted her to know.

She was tired of making the first move.

After going to see him that last time, she promised herself from then on she'd let him come to her. They couldn't avoid seeing each other, not after her invitation to come to Sunday Dinners, but visitation rights were only allowed in public with other people around to offer her a distraction. The night he'd walked her home after telling scary stories with Jack she'd learned the hard way that private meetings would be too risky and she might violate Rule Number One.

But that wasn't the whole story.

The main reason she stayed away was that she felt guilty. There were plenty of things to feel guilty over, but most of her acts in the past year she'd honestly done with the best of intentions. One, however, she hadn't. When she'd kissed Dawson at the beginning of the summer - or let him kiss her, she still wasn't sure – a dark part of her had to admit she'd wanted to trigger a reaction from Pacey.

At prom, when Pacey had seen Dawson and her dancing he said he didn't care anymore, that it didn't bother him. Well, she'd _wanted_ him to care, damn it.

Yes, a small part of her had kissed Dawson to see if there was anything still there, to convince herself that losing Pacey wasn't for nothing. But that was what she wanted everyone to think - for that was standard operating procedure for Miss Joey Potter, wasn't it? To fall back to Dawson as her fail-safe? Better everyone believe that she was preoccupied with Dawson once more so soon after her breakup with Pacey than see the ugliness of the scorned ex-girlfriend trying to provoke her ex-boyfriend, whom she still cared about.

But she needn't have worried; it had all been for nothing. Pacey hadn't cared that Dawson left school to join her in Boston, to the point of reassuring her that he was glad Romeo and Juliet would get another chance.

So the joke was on her.

Dawson and she hardly saw each other anymore and Pacey had spent his summer in paradise with a blonde, Joey all but forgotten.

What was it with Pacey and blonde older women?

She transferred the pebble to her other hand and dragged her free one through her own dark strands. She sighed. Maybe she should have known that she never stood a chance.

_Don't let your life pass you by_

_  
_  
No, he'd made it obvious he was happier getting on with his life. And she owed it to him to let him do that without getting in his way and holding him back.

For once she was going to put him first.

Bringing us to the final rule; the golden one.

**Rule Number Three: Do Not, Under Any Circumstance, Bring Up Their Past**

**  
**Since coming to Boston, she'd been struggling with two thorns in her side – a sorrowed heart and a troubled mind. Well, she couldn't mend both; not yet anyway. The ache was too great. So she opted to fix the easier one.

_Weep not for the memories_

_  
__  
_This involved clearing her head of events from the past year to wipe out all the pain. This self-induced amnesia was worth it to feel the heavenly freedom of being numb. Their conversation – well, conversation with anyone actually - was to be strictly limited to anything _not _related to the former Senior Class Couple.

As for her heart? Well, again, for that she'd look to her teacher as a role model.

He'd taught her how to drive, to sail, and most importantly that you run from your problems.

The latter may be a harsh judgment but the evidence spoke loudly and clearly. He'd sailed away from Capeside to escape. Twice. The first time she'd been lucky enough to join him but if Doug hadn't told her Pacey was leaving, or if she hadn't caught him in time, it might have been a different story. He'd kept quiet about failing school, preferring to ignore his issues until she'd confronted him. He'd never resolved things with Dawson.

He'd run just as hard as she was running now.

Her old MO was to never give up; to hold onto things and never let go, even if that meant she hurt herself and others in the process of trying to make everyone else happy.

Well, that hadn't exactly worked out for her, now had it?

Like the little Dutch boy who'd tried to plug the broken dam with his fingers, more holes burst wide open everywhere she looked and she couldn't close them all on her own.

_I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to lose_

_  
_  
She'd lost faith in herself. Everyone she'd ever loved had seen such pain in their lives – her Mom, Dad, Bessie, Dawson - Pacey perhaps the most. She hadn't been able to let them go, but she could do that for Pacey. Set him free.

It was time to walk away from the broken dam; she was going to run from her heart.

She was going to only look forward. That's what Pacey, her teacher, was doing, right? So that's what she was going to do.

Who cared if this blinkered vision could also be labeled as avoidance by others? Bring it on. She was allowed one vice, wasn't she?

_Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose_

_  
_  
You see, she'd cleverly pretended to ignore the truth that by forcing herself to constantly forget something, she was in fact remembering it with each breath she took – and this state of limbo may look attractive, but with each passing day it can cut you deeper until you don't recognize the person you used to be.

The person who'd once thought things could never get better than simply lying side by side on a deck, cuddling, with the one person you love more than anything.

_But once there was a darkness, deep and endless night  
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light_

_  
__  
_Like when you see a car crash and you can't look away, she couldn't stop herself from remembering that person she used to be.

_I will remember you_

_  
_  
_They'd sailed hard that day making the most of the strong Atlantic winds. As per normal after dinner, they had taken their usual places on deck: Pacey sprawled out on the front wooden bench with Joey on top of him as they read aloud from their book._

"Here," Joey passed him the book, her thumb keeping the place. "Your turn."

Dropping a kiss on her forehead, Pacey took it from her and picked up from where she'd left off. After only a few pages his words had become slower with frequent pauses.

During one particular silence, Joey lifted her head from where it had been resting against his chest and noticed his eyes were closed. Feeling her movement as she redistributed her weight, Pacey's eyes sprang open and focused on the book in his hand.

"Sorry," he cleared his throat and opened his eyes wide, "where was I?"

"Pace," Joey rubbed circles on his chest. "You're exhausted." She studied his face. "Let's leave it here for tonight and turn in, yeah?"

He let out a loud yawn and nodded. "Never let it be said, Potter, that you aren't full of good ideas."

"Huh? You sure about that?" She teased. "I'm with you, aren't I? In the middle of the ocean. Alone."

"Exactly. Yet good another idea, honey." He rubbed his nose over hers. "Maybe your best yet."

"Ya think?"

"I know."

She rolled her eyes, her traitorous lips curling up with the beginnings of a smile. He'd been saying those words every chance he'd gotten since they'd set sail. And yes, okay, she'd admit they did make her heart flutter every time. Though she had no plans to let Pacey know this; she was a girl and had to keep some mystery alive. Hell, who was she kidding? He already knew. Damn her lips. "Not gonna let that go are ya, Pace?"

He looked purposely at her upturned lips and grinned. "What do you think?"

She watched as he started to mark their place in the book by turning the top corner of the page over.

"Er… just what do you_ think you're doing?"_

"That would be what is called marking the page_. You may not be familiar with such a complex procedure, I grant you. Here, let me educate you, dearest. Listen carefully. You take a page, like so, and then hold the top corner between your forefinger and thumb and then… this is the tricky part… fold it over." He attempted to act out his tutorial._

"Stop right there, Mister."

He sighed. "Now what?"

"Pacey, that's not called marking the page_ it's called _defacing the book_. Which we haven't done so far and we're not about to start." She scanned the deck. "There must be something we can use as a bookmark."_

"Well, while you work on that, I'll just mark the page and then we can-" That threat earned him a pinch on the arm.

"Jo! That hurt!"

"Did not." She rubbed the spot on which she had inflicted the non-existent pain, her hand brushing his top shirt pocket in the process. "Hey, what's that?" She patted around his pocket feeling something square and solid inside. Without waiting for an invitation, she dipped her fingers in and pulled the item out.

A playing card. The winning card, in fact, from the game they'd played a few days ago.

The eight of clubs.

"Pace? What's this doing in your pocket?"

"Hmm? Oh, hey, how did that get there I wonder?" Pacey ignored her questioning eyes and took the card from her fingers. "But looks like we have our bookmark after all."

Joey studied his face, curious at the way he wouldn't meet her eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to press the issue, he stole her breath with a delicious, wet kiss. Then another. And another. Bookmark origin forgotten, they'd turned in for the night, the topic never revisited.

Joey worried her thumb over the pebble, now warm, resting in the palm of her hand. No, they'd never discussed it but for some reason Pacey had always insisted that they use the eight of clubs as a bookmark. God knows why. Although she was happy he was using a bookmark at all, she'd meant to ask him. She believed that it wasn't just Pacey being Pacey wanting to wind her up by being annoying - that the card held a more significant meaning.

She didn't think she'd run out of time to ask. And now it was too late.

_Will you remember me?_

_  
_  
Joey didn't know what was worse: trying to stick to the club rules so much so at times she wondered if she'd imagined they'd ever been together, or knowing that he did remember their time, too - as that meant she had to remember to forget all over again.

She placed her worry stone in her jean pocket, not willing to let it go just yet.

Looks like old habits die hard.

Suddenly eager to stop her mind from running with circuitous thoughts she couldn't control and dreams she couldn't have, she broke into a spirit as her building came into sight.

She ran hard so that hopefully one day she'd be done.

Then maybe, just maybe, when she was certain her teacher stood still, she could as well.

~*~

_Well. That went well.  
_  
Pacey carelessly dropped the last of the dirty dishes into the sink, the force of the movement causing the soapsuds to splash over onto the counter.

_I'm so tired but I can't sleep_

_  
_  
He braced his hands on either side of the sink and stared moodily into the bubbles.

_Fuck.  
_  
Pushing away from the sink he turned on his heels to finish straightening up the room. Jen and Jack had offered to help with the dishes and put things away – Joey did, too, although he could gauge from her face she was less than excited by the prospect of prolonging tonight's festivities. And he couldn't have agreed more, thus why he was in the process of a solo clean up.

_Fuck a duck.  
_  
After the white elephant incident, they'd sat down to eat their burgers – and they were mighty fine burgers if he did say so himself - the presence of food distracting Jack and in turn causing the conversation to drift into safer waters. But the tension had been there all evening.

_Standing on the edge of something much too deep_

_  
_  
Or maybe it was only he who'd been aware of it. Well, he and Joey, of course.

_Fuck a duck driving a garbage truck.  
_  
This was not exactly his plan for tonight. He'd wanted a fun, light-hearted evening with his old friends. No tension, no awkward pauses, no need for white lies. No, he'd had enough of all that for a lifetime.

So why was it that for one brief moment in the middle of his storytelling he had felt the best, the happiest, the most free he had in months?

_Fuck a duck driving a garbage truck with a hockey puck.  
_  
Nope, he wouldn't let himself go there. He couldn't. What was done was done, and he and Miss Potter were certainly done. Right? The way things were between them right now were... good. One might even say… nice. They were getting along, the best they had in… well, ever. They weren't fighting, they were being civil, agreeing on things and… and they were being so damn polite it was driving him crazy.

_It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word_

_  
_  
But what could he do? He was the one who'd called things off with her. The one who was now encroaching on her life in Boston. Funny that; how he'd ended up in Boston. For those playing along at home, once again that's _Boston_ – the place where a certain brunette also resides? Yep. Uh-huh. Enough said.

_Fuck a duck driving a garbage truck with a hockey puck wearing a- _he stopped mid-flow of puffing up the cushions on the couch, concerned as to why exactly he was thinking about fucking hockey-playing, truck-driving ducks and also why he was straightening the cushions._  
_  
Damn Doug and his cushion-straightening imprinting ways. He shook his head and threw the cushions aside then headed into his bedroom.

Suffice to say things were seriously fucked up all-round.

_Though we are screaming inside oh we can't be heard_

_  
_  
Suddenly more tired than he'd been in a long while, he sank down onto his cabin bed. He rolled onto his back, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared out the porthole to the side of his bed.

_Don't let yourself get so angry that you stop loving because one day you wake up from that anger and the person you love will be gone._

It's amazing how much words could haunt a person. He'd been thinking about them a lot lately. If only he'd heeded her sage advice from years ago during _their_ relationship, he might not be in this situation right now. But he'd had a lot of "if only" moments recently and that thinking never got him anywhere.

He'd been doing so well when he first came to Boston. He was finally in a good place – both geographically and mentally; he had a steady job, earned decent money, a roommate-free place to stay on the water, a clear head.

And then, bang! Everything had changed one night a few weeks ago. With a can of soda in his hand, he had glanced up at the stars only to look to his side and see the face for which he'd been searching right there in reality.

And all the emotions he thought were gone, came flooding back. The speed in which they returned convincing him that they hadn't actually left. They had only been buried away.

Only, it was obvious she didn't feel the same way. Around him she was either stolid or so carefree, so perky… so unlike the Joey he knew. Which made him think that maybe _this _was the real Joey. The one set free from Capeside and its attendant angst.

The angst that included him.

But he liked to think that he still knew her a little, and the Joey he knew wouldn't be happy if she thought that her friends – because that's what they were now it seemed – weren't happy. So he was determined to prove to her that he was doing fine; that he was content and concentrating at looking to the future so that she wouldn't worry about him.

When in reality, all he felt was the realness that he was faking.

Of course, not in the sense that he was lying because he _was_ a forward thinker.

His fixation of looking toward the future didn't have anything to do with the hypothetical dream he'd shared with her not that long ago of owing a sail boat, and its particular sailing companion. Or that by setting the example of concentrating on the future, so would she and somehow their futures would merge – much like she had been so certain once.

Nope, his fixation had nothing to do with those things. Because that type of thinking would be ridiculous, right?

For it seemed that ship had sailed - for her at least.

For him? Well, that was an answer best left for another time. One which would probably only come out by brute force or by being locked in a room overnight with her.

Because, honestly, how likely was it that the latter would ever happen? He had more hope of winning the lottery or waking up one morning and being told Capeside was actually a fictitious place.

Right now, he had to do right by her. Since his gut told him plan-loving Joey Potter was operating under her own set, that meant he had to go against his norm of breaking rules and create some for himself. Currently he had three. He liked to call them Potterisms.

**Rule Number One: No Touching**

****

This was brilliant for its simplicity, even if it went completely against his trademark proclivity as a touchy/feely guy. No touching meant no warm tingles, which meant no chain reaction to the heart and no butterflies sprouting wings, leading to no cravings to reach out and kiss her senseless.

Oh no. See, he'd made that mistake already, reaching out to kiss her, that is. Cast your mind back to the night of the Worthington party when he'd picked her up. Got the visual in your head? Good. Then you'll remember that even with all the heartache they'd somehow fallen into their usual banter routine, and he'd been so caught up in the familiarity that he'd reached over and almost kissed her right there and then in front of the B&B.

Her sudden frozen body posture had told him just how well _that_ would go down.

He'd allowed himself that moment on the docks the following morning to hold hands as he simply couldn't not. From then on he'd clamped down on any pesky urges to reach over and indulge in the rush; he'd kept contact brief and avoided all unnecessary exposure.

This rule had been the only thing that had saved him from grabbing her and holding her tight when she joined him the first time on the boat, making her forget all about the other half of the football team (even if she had only been joking about sleeping with them).

**Rule Number Two: Do Not Approach Her**

****

Staying away from her those first few weeks he'd been in Boston had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. But it was necessary. Boston was _her_ dream; she'd worked so hard to get here, to finally get out of Capeside. The last thing he wanted to do was to bring back past hurts, which he felt his presence right now would do.

No, he'd let her go for a reason - so she wouldn't be dragged down with him. And he was damn well going to make sure she wasn't pulled down even by the aftershock waves of his breaking heart.

So distance was the key.

OK. Now, the astute of you could beg to argue that he'd attempted a few times to seek a private one-on-one - such as walking her home after leaving Grams, and well to some degree, tonight's invitation.

He never said he was any good at sticking to the rules, now did he? Could he help it if he simply wanted to be around her?

Besides, it all went to helping his brilliant plan of keeping a poker face – if he mixed things up and sought her presence sometimes, then it wouldn't look so obvious when he didn't seek it.

Don't worry, it didn't make much sense to him either.

**Rule Number Three: Do Not, Under Any Circumstance, Bring Up Their Past**

**  
**If he didn't keep to this rule, he'd go crazy. And to be quite frank, enough crazy people had come out of Capeside - he didn't want to add to the numbers.

So he was endeavoring to play the role of the good ex-boyfriend and be there when she needed to talk about any issues, non-Class Couple ones that is. He'd even gone so far as to tell her she should go for it again with Dawson.

God, _that_ had been a hard pill to swallow.

But it wasn't entirely selfless. Sure he'd said it partly as he knew Dawson was hurting in a way that no one should ever have to with his Dad dying, and he knew Joey could help him to get past that pain somehow.

Some might think he'd encouraged Joey so that she and Dawson would try again and once and for all see what everyone else could, which was they simply weren't right for each romantically. Then both Dawson and she could finally move on.

Yet, the real crux of it was he'd set up the possibility that it was OK for one to go back to a past love. That maybe, one day, Joey would open up her heart again into believing.

That even if something is so damaged by a storm that it's set aside and all but forgotten… even if everyone is saying it's unsalvageable and you should give up and walk away… all it needs is someone with a belief that it could be something more. And with tender loving care and a lot of hard work you can turn it into something which is sea-worthy once more and will keep you safe as you navigate the waters.

That no crack is too big that it can't be fixed and, in the right hands, you won't even be able to tell it was damaged in the first place.

Unfortunately that hypothetical "one day" he'd voiced the night of the graduation party didn't look like it was going to happen anytime in the near future.

Pulling his eyes away from the porthole window, he reached over to his bedside table and picked up the book propped up against his alarm clock. He turned back the pages until he reached the bookmark halfway through.

Object in his hand, he put the book to one side and studied the well-worn plastic-coated playing card.

They'd purchased the pack on one of their stops along the way down to Florida, Pacey's ADD tendencies requiring the need for something to occupy their spare time other than gutting fish or trading for barnacles.

_I will remember you_

_  
_  
With a wistful smile, he cast his mind back to the time they'd last played cards.

_Bored of waiting for Joey to take her turn, Pacey twisted round a little trying to peek at her cards._

"Hey!" She scolded, holding her cards up higher and blocking her face even more. "No cheating!"

"I was doing no such thing." He smiled innocently. "Can I help it if I missed your gorgeous face and wanted to see it?"

"Yeah right," she scoffed. "Do I look like I've just fallen off a turnip truck?"

He studied her closely. "No, actually," he replied, his voice deep with sincerity. "You look like the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Humbled, Joey dropped her shoulders, causing her cards to lower. "Pace, that's the sweet-" She stopped her lips moving into her crooked smile as soon as she noticed where his eyes were directed. Not on her but back to trying to see her cards. "Why... you! You said that just to distract me!"

He sighed dramatically. "As if." He chuckled, watching as she glared at him before holding up her cards once more. "But you may want to play your Ace next."

She dropped her jaw. "I knew it! You did look!"

He gave her a shit-eating grin. "Nuh-uh, sweetheart. But thanks for telling me what's in your hand."

She rolled her eyes and studied her cards. "Just for that I'm not putting out tonight."

He raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. "Is that so? And that would make it different from any other night in what way exactly?"

She blushed, but he could tell by her turned up chin she was determined not to lose face. "Well, now you'll never know, will you?"

He smiled knowingly but didn't call her on it. "Touché."

After another long pause, he whined, "Hurry up, Joooooo. Play your damn card already."

He heard her laugh quietly to herself and then she picked out one of the cards from her hand and laid it on top of the pile. "There. Happy now?"

His eyes flicked briefly from the card she'd played to his own hand before pulling out one of his own. He placed it on top of hers. "Very," he beamed, his card trumping hers.

With a snigger at her pouting face, he picked up the winning hand and put it to one side. "Now, now, Josephine. Don't be a sore loser."

"I haven't lost yet. Just you worry about your own hand, Pacey."

"Oh, them's fighting words."

She rolled her eyes once more. "Play your damn card already," she repeated his earlier words.

"Patience, Potter." He waggled his eyebrows. "Good things come to those who wait." He watched her cheeks redden from his intense look and she dropped her gaze back to her hand.

The game continued in much the same way, with interjects of banter being used mostly by Pacey to try to distract Joey on her focus of the game. To no avail, however, as after three more hands she was in the lead.

Down to one card each, Pacey placed his first onto the pile. Math never being his strongest subject he hadn't even tried to count the cards, so he prayed that Joey couldn't trump it.

"Oh well," she sighed, causing Pacey's face to begin to change into his best gloating 'I'm the winner, baby' face. "Looks like…," she slowly placed the card down on top of his, "I win!" She whooped gleefully.

Disbelieving, he looked down at the card.

The eight of clubs.

"Ha!" She fisted her hands in the air in triumph, eyes coruscating. "Take that, Witter!"

Instead of feeling disappointed, he felt the exact opposite. Taking in the look in her eyes it was the first time he'd seen her look that carefree since they'd pulled anchor and left Capeside. Nah, he'd let her win every game he if it meant she'd keep looking at him like she was now.

With a joyful laugh, Joey fell into his arms and hugged him tightly. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed his nose along the silky strands.

She leaned back a little to look into his face. "Thank you for today, Pacey." Her eyes still carried that same carefree expression, only now they also held an oneiric emotion, one just as powerful. "God, I'm so in love with you." She grinned and pulled him back into her arms.

Her words caused him to take in a breath. She'd told him she loved him before at the docks, but this was the first time she had said she was "in" love with him. And boy did it feel good.

"Right back atcha, Potter." He whispered reverently.

He tunneled one hand through her hair; with the other he reached out and plucked up the winning card from the pile without her seeing and safely tucked it into his pocket.

He knew that every time he saw it – or any eight of clubs – he'd be reminded of this moment and how much they were in love. And how he would always, always love this girl.

He blinked hard as he came back to the present and studied the one and the same card in his hand.

He knew she was curious as to why he insisted that they always use the eight of clubs as a bookmark. Using that card had become second-nature to him, as natural as breathing. He'd never told her his reasons, truthfully because he'd wanted her to remember that moment all on her own and realize what it meant. After all, hadn't she been the one to say it would be the moments that would define them?

_Will you remember me?_

_  
_  
Now it was too late.

Just when he was starting to believe he didn't have anything to run from anymore, the other club member was running hard.

So it was time to let go.

Forcing his hands to go against their will, he took the top edges and slowly ripped the card in two.

Not bothering to wipe away the moisture that had gathered in the corner of his eyes, he dropped the two pieces into the trashcan beside the bed.

Adding his tears to the other things on his list of white noise which he was determined to ignore, he turned onto his side and closed his eyes.

He may have given up on the magic of that particular card, but he couldn't quite convince himself to stop hoping that one day in the future there would be another card to replace it.

So until then, whenever that may be, for once he was sticking to the rules; he'd search for that future he hoped to God existed.

~*~ **Epilogue** ~*~  
**Six Years Later**

**  
**Pacey sat alone at one of the wooden tables on the Ice House deck. He gazed past the sailboats, softly bobbing in the marina, to the glint of moonlight on the water beyond. He did not allow himself to think about his conversation with Joey in the kitchen today.

He had meant what he said. She was off the hook.

Whatever she was going to say when they were interrupted had gone unsaid. She had disappeared from the gathering sometime during clean up and she hadn't even sought him out to say goodbye.

Looks like he had his answer.

He tipped his beer bottle up and let the golden liquid run down his throat. After he'd drained the last drop he set the empty bottle to one side. His mind blank from fatigue and emotional overload, he happily allowed himself to be hypnotized by the ocean view.

He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there staring ahead when he heard her approach from behind, her footsteps lightly echoing on the decking. She didn't stop or hesitate and, though he heard the steps, he did not turn around.

She pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, so close their knees touched.

"Hey," she murmured.

He finally turned his head and acknowledged her with a slight smile. Now he was hypnotized by a completely different view, although one just as beautiful. "Hey."

His pulse quickened from her unexpected visit as it always did from the nearness of her but right now it had another reason. The Ice House was long deserted. They were alone - meaning no further interruptions to the words left unspoken in the kitchen, words which he sensed she'd come to impart. This was it, there was no going back after this conversation. No matter what her decision, everything would change.

Realizing this, he suddenly became immobilized from the dual urgency of both wanting and _not_ wanting to know answers. He couldn't have spoken even if he'd wanted. All he could do was wait for her to speak.

She briefly fixed her eyes over the moonlit ocean before meeting his own. "I'm done," she said softly, but confidently.

His heart stuttered but, sadly, he was not surprised. How could he be when her words only confirmed what he'd always thought - possibility was one bastard of a trick.

It's funny what a difference a few short days can make. He'd been so energized when he greeted her at the Ice House entrance. Their reunion had been a complete contrast to that day so many years ago when she had sought him out for the first time in Boston. Then he'd had to prevent himself from grabbing her and swinging her in a hug.

This was no longer the case as, like they'd continued to do over the years, the rules had changed.

He'd accomplished his hypothetical dream of owning something he wanted to share with the woman he loved. Granted a restaurant wasn't a boat, but it was just as symbolic in his mind. The connection wasn't simply that the restaurant had previously belonged to her family, it was that he'd proved once again that it is possible to rebuild something which was once thought lost.

And he'd hoped she'd understand this and see that he'd planted roots so strong - in the place which was closest to the only thing he'd ever known as home, besides being with her - that never again would he cut and run at the first sign of trouble.

Which was why - as much as he'd tried to coach himself to not gather too much hope, and even though he meant every word he'd said in his speech earlier that day - he could never have prepared himself for the huge ache he felt in his chest when she actually said the words out loud.

They were over. She was done. Her final, definitive answer.

At least she had given him that; he was thankful she had not left them unresolved yet again.

Trying to keep his word and to be happy with whatever answer she gave him, he lifted his lips as best he could and nodded once in acceptance.

Seeing the look on his face, Joey immediately shook her head. "Running. I'm done _running_." Her eyes grew wet, the moonlight causing them to glow. "For good, Pace."

She turned the hand which had been resting on the table and held it palm up. Tucked safely inside was a playing card. The suit was clubs, but it wasn't any old club.

It was _their_ club.

A fresh, brand-new one.

The eight of clubs.

His eyes darted to hers, asking with them what his voice still could not. Hers gave the answer he was looking for - she'd remembered the card's meaning all on her own.

Stunned, he allowed her words to sink in for a long moment and his brain to catch up with his heart. And then ever so very slowly he reached for her hand and entwined their fingers, locking the card tightly between them.

And, just like that, old club rules were discarded - for this card trumped them all.

Rubbing circles over the top of her hand with his thumb, he let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. He cleared his throat, finally managing to find his voice, although he couldn't stop it from shaking. He only had to know one more thing. "How about sailing? Not done with that, too, are you?"

She squeezed his hand once. "Like you even have to ask."

When she smiled that smile of hers, he gave himself over to the chain reaction it triggered in his heart. You know the one - it began with the warm tingles, then the butterflies and finally the kissing. He leaned in, feeling her soft lips whisper over his for an endless moment.

Now he was truly home.

When she nestled her head against his chest and burrowed close he let out a contented sigh. His free arm wrapped around her shoulder pulling her close in his embrace before he rested his chin against the crown of her head.

After a while he spoke. "So… does this mean I have to start using bookmarks again?" he teased, his deep voice rumbling with a mixture of mirth and nostalgia.

"Pace?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Shut up and watch the pretty boats."

"Yes, dear."

With a smile on their faces, both their eyes resettled on the view ahead of them. They knew they had the rest of their lives to work out the details, as for once time was their friend.

Much like themselves, rules adapt and evolve over the years.

One thing was certain.

With their sui generis membership card safely in their hands, they would always be a fan of clubs.

**  
THE END  
**

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